She thinks she’s quiet,

But I think she’s contemplative.

She thinks she’s frumpy,

But I think the universe is in her eyes.

She thinks she’s useless,

But I think she’s kind to the lost.

She thinks she’s anxious,

But I think she’s waiting for the right moment.

She thinks she’s unworthy,

But I think God spent extra time on her.

I think you’re ultraviolet,

My shrinking A. Violet.